


Welcome to North Rison

by totallyKatNep



Series: WesternStuck [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallyKatNep/pseuds/totallyKatNep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The path is dusty and the cart horses are weary. The day is hot and the English man tires in the heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to North Rison

**Author's Note:**

> This is the introduction to North Rison and the first members of the WesternStuck. There will be many more tales of heroics and romantics soon as the series unfolds. My friends and I came up with this and, after exntensive research, found that very little of this style existed. We planned to change that. Enjoy reading - totallyKatNep

The wind whipped up the dusty track as the cart wobbled unsteady on the cobbled ground that made up quite a large amount of this part of America. The hooded driver holds the reins tight in his hands; making sure the horses don’t go the wrong way. A heavy sweat encases his hand which he wipes on the thin rags making up his hood. The sun beats down on the cart as it makes its weary way toward the isolation that was North Rison. It could be a good half an hour till they would arrive in the isolated, but rather swell, little dustbowl of North Rison.

The sleeping passenger knows not of the heat of the day as the cart moves on comfortably slow. That is until the wheel of the cart hits an awkward rock. The passenger wakes with a start and fumbles for his hat because the wind must have taken right of his head. He finds his hat and little more than a puddle of sweat beneath him on the wood of the cart.

‘It is bloody hot out here.’

His accent is not from round here. It is thick and rich and very English. Introducing Jake English. This strapping chap is on the search for a town not quite as ordinary as the others. He stretches his over-heated limbs and rubs light weary eyes. The day is very harsh and it is not quite noon yet. He does not want to stay in this heat anymore. It will drive him barmy soon.

‘Sorry to bother you,’ he asks the driver ‘but is it much further?’

The driver huffs; he must be pissed off with the heat as well.

‘Not much further now.’ He says in a heavy accent. ‘Ya should be able to see it soon.’

‘Jolly good.’ The young fellow is getting excitable at the thought of seeing his home for the next month or so. The driver just wants to go home and see his wife and little lad.

They begin to turn and from around the rock formation, the town looms into view. At first there is little to see but soon the town builds upon itself and new buildings can be discerned through the heat haze. The sign emblazoned ‘North Rison’ greets them as the horses and cart make their sweaty way between the large posts.

The horses stop suddenly and the driver visibly shudders. This cannot be good. There is something cool against the back of Jake’s neck that sends shivers through his spine, the barrel of a gun that is wielded by the all too well known Jack Noir. Tax collector gone mad is how the town’s sheriff knows him but everyone else knows him as Public Enemy Number Two.

‘Right you English nob, hand over everything that could sell well.’ His angry tone informs the poor man that he would not hesitate to pull the trigger and send his body into a six foot deep pit.

‘Never, you dirty bastard.’ The English never give in easily.

‘Okay now cut the crap and get to it.’ The gun jabs Jake’s spine once more.

‘Never.’ Jake’s own tone thick with anger and defiance.

‘Okay you stupid English nob. You asked for i-’ Jake closes his eyes expecting death to take him swiftly. But it does not come. The hand with the gun twitches and the gun removed there are three gunshots from right behind him and then he is flying.

Jake marvels at how good flying feels but he isn’t really flying, more falling towards a rocky floor. Hands make to grab him but they do not make contact. There is a jolt of pain from the side of his head followed by a warm feeling that seems to trickle down the side of his head.

He opens his eyes but is unable to focus on anything. He sees figures chasing the black hooded Noir guy into the desert and another that leans over to him and shouts his name but it makes no sense to him at all.

The humans white dress was going red with the blood of the young man. People watched the young ‘Cake Girl’ run almost tearful through town towards the doors of the hospital. The man opened his once more and saw the passing of buildings and the bluest sky. He looked upon the face of his carrier and smiled; she was a pretty little thing. The girls noticed he was looking at her and smiled a fearful smile.

‘Thank…you…’ He managed. She noticed the accent.

Pain envelops Jake and the world begins the swirl and the image of the girls fades from view as his eyes close. The dim light of the sun through his eyelids fades to black and the darkness claims him from the world.


End file.
